Bluff
by redgrass-and-silvertrees
Summary: Or six times the Eleventh Doctor did not regenerate and the one time he did. A series of vignettes from episodes exploring how the Eleventh Doctor slowly came to terms with his own mortality. One-shot


**I'm not clever enough to tell a four year story, the span of a Doctor's entire era, backwards and have it be both brilliant and believable.**

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Bluff

or

Six times the Eleventh Doctor did not regenerate and the one time he did.

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**I.**

In theory, a Time Lord was the most vulnerable immediately following a regeneration. Sure, all their injuries had been healed from whatever had caused them to regenerate in the first place, but everything else was muddled. The Doctor, the Eleventh-ish version, was still disoriented, still caught up in fairy tale names and cracks in walls. He couldn't quite get his head on straight this time as he staggered back to Amelia's house after he stopped the TARDIS from imploding. What a day. Usually after a fatal injury he had time to come to grips with his new well, everything, but he'd done nothing but bounce around since he'd changed bodies. Perhaps that was for the best, if he stayed still for too long he just might understand the full implications of this latest regeneration.

No, stop, don't think, keep moving. Amelia needs you, the crack in her wall was hiding an alien fugitive and if he didn't get back right this instant... He raced up those stairs, calling her name, searching for the little Scottish girl. He pulled out the sonic and began scanning the door where he suspected Prisoner Zero was hiding. Stupid, idiotic Doctor, if only he wasn't avoiding thinking he'd have realized this long before. But it was so much more frightening to think about what was coming for him.

"Prisoner Zero is here! Prisoner Zero is here! Do you understand me? Prisoner Zero is-" He turned around at the sound of creaking wood and barely had time to gasp as someone hit him in the head with a cricket bat. _A cricket bat, great, of all the ways to go, _he thought as he hit the ground. His Fifth persona must be tickled pink.

'_Time Lords are susceptible to secondary regeneration if knocked unconscious soon after regeneration'_

'_Secondary regeneration if knocked unconscious'_

'_**Secondary regeneration'**_

The Doctor blinked himself back into the waking world lolling his head to one side taking note of a human female talking into a radio. He ignored that for the moment and instead focused on the words echoing in his head. _No,_ he moaned, _I don't want to deal with this now_. But it was there and, ready or not, he was dealing with it. Those had been the words of his old teachers at the Academy a very, very, very long time ago, back when the thought of regeneration was just a faraway concept that would never happen to him. It was a well-known, well-documented fact that newly regenerated Time Lords could undergo a second regeneration if injured soon after the first. Obviously not the worst thing that could happen but he'd always been slightly relieved to have avoided said fate himself. Until now that is.

But a brief mental check of his body told him that he had not, in fact, undergone secondary regeneration despite the fact that he'd been in this body oh an hour at the very most. So either he was incredibly, extremely lucky (he discarded that option once he realized that he was actually handcuffed to an old heater and the young woman was a police officer calling for backup and where had his sonic gone off to?) or… he simply had no regenerations left. He gulped as he conversed with the young, naïve officer trying to put things into perspective. So this really was it. This would be the last body he'd run around and be mad in. No other silly little Doctors would follow him; countless years of saving the universe would end with him.

"Amelia Pond, little Scottish girl, where is she?" He said sharply because he was extremely concerned for young Amelia's safety but also there was no point in pouting. Everything had to end sometime, including him. There was nothing left for him to do but deal with it and hope when his time eventually came, it would be quiet and dignified. Well that was unlikely because he _was_ the Doctor after all. Just because he was the last didn't mean his adventure was over, it just meant he had to make this incarnation last long enough to be the best one yet.

**II.**

"Big Bang Two, now listen-" The Doctor started and was stopped from explaining his oh so brilliant plan to save the universe by the Dalek-right on time actually- shooting him. He convulsed as the blast tore at his every cell until he found himself on the floor shaking and barely able to think much less move. Oh Daleks and their guns, how he hated them. But the universe was still unraveling and he really wasn't exaggerating when he said that there was mere minutes left before everything just un-happened. So ignoring River's surprisingly soft hands on his face, he typed into the vortex manipulator with a strength he didn't have for downstairs twelve minutes ago and was gone.

It's actually harder than you'd think to play dead, he's never really thought about it before but the body has so many tells that preclude to life. But it was necessary as he needed the humans out of the way so he could enact his plan. Of course it also probably helped that he already had one foot in the grave. Once they'd given their little humany mourning, Amy and Rory raced up the stairs leaving the Doctor alone. The coast now clear, the Doctor very slowly and painfully got to his feet and then promptly fell over. Great, thanks Dalek. He's only trying to save the universe from non-existence and half his organs have shut down and his muscles are being decidingly uncooperative.

He once again found his footing and this time managed to stay upright. Out of sheer habit, he looked down to see if his hands were glowing which of course they wouldn't be. Even if reality wasn't collapsing around him, he was all out of juice remember? He wheezed as the left kidney failed and he leaned up against the wall. He had to get to the Pandorica, the restoration field would probably keep him alive long enough for him to complete his greatest work: the rebooting of the universe.

He staggered on down the hall like some sort of drunkard trying to keep from falling over and keeping his hearts beating on pure stubbornness alone. Oops, he meant to say heart, there goes righty. Too bad, he always liked that heart the best. Finally after what felt like centuries-maybe it had been, it's so hard to tell with all that's been going on- the Pandorica came into his sights. He licked his dry lips.

"There you are you beauty." Practically falling inside, he pulled out his sonic noting that it seemed harder than normal for his hands to move. After he wired the vortex manipulator into the Pandorica the sonic slipped from his hands as his fingers lost traction. He took short gasping breaths and ran his hand over his face. He couldn't do this, God he was going to die right here, right now just before he saved the universe from total erasure. Certainly not his favorite way he'd like to go, not even in the top 10. If only he had one last life left, just a smidgeon more regeneration energy then he could save the universe. Hell, the restoration field in the heart of an exploding TARDIS might be enough to heal his wounds but if he couldn't finish this then it'd all be for naught.

He couldn't think anymore, he slumped over in the chair not thinking about being trapped in here for all time. But he'd do it, he'd trade the rest of his days for all eternity in that box for just a little bit of that golden glow. He smiled mirthlessly to himself, but time always ran out didn't it? Right when you least expected it there was nowhere left to run. It was a fitting end for someone like him who never learned to stop running, until now. He closed his eyes and sighed at his failure.

"Doctor!"

**III.**

_Oh of course it had to be River Song, why would it be anyone else?_ He thought grumpily as he staggered away from pre-war Berlin and into his TARDIS. He actually thinks he was handling the situation quite well considering that he was dying and all. He tapped the floor of his beautiful ship and begged that she activate the voice interface. A little of his pain was eased as sweet young Amelia Pond appeared before him. Oh his precious Pond, oh how he wished she could have stayed so small and innocently curious of her Raggedy Man and they could've travelled the universe without death or loss. Too late for that he supposed, for both of them.

"Your system has been contaminated by the poison from the Judas tree; you will be dead in 32 minutes." He gulps and brushes aside a lock of his floppy hair. Who knows? That may be the last time he was able to play with his hair since he's only got 32 minutes left to live and no regenerations left. River bloody Song, if he hadn't already killed her at the Library he'd be tempted to right now. But of course he was an optimist, the hoper of far-flung hopes and the dreamer of improbable dreams. Maybe it was possible he'd miscounted his regenerations?

"Okay, so basically better regenerate. That's what you're saying?" He said in a high, desperate voice because, as much as he hated to admit it, he was scared. He was lying on the floor of his TARDIS feeling his systems shutting down and becoming increasingly aware of hollowness where golden energy ought to be bubbling up.

"Regeneration, disabled. You will be dead in 32 minutes." _Liar_, he wanted to shout angrily but restrained himself, _you beautiful, sexy liar you_. There were very few toxins out there which could interrupt a Time Lord's regenerative cycle and they were all far out of reach of River Song's lips. But his ship knew him to the last, knew that he would be happier with the idea of being poisoned by something that hindered his regeneration rather than that he'd just plum run out. What a selfish old man he was, even at the end.

Well now, in the last half hour of his life what did he want to do? Well, he could take a quick bath with his favorite duckie. He could stumble to his little used bedroom, tear off his clothes and let himself die peacefully in his bed. Maybe he could even to make one final cup of tea and finally try and finish _the Time Machine_. But no, he wasn't going to do any of those things, much as he'd like to. He had to go save River, well not quite River, more like Murderous Melody. He had to; he had to repay her for the love and patience she showed him that day at the Library. It would certainly be the last thing he did but he had to set her on the path that would lead to her eventual demise. He needed-he needed-

"Fish Fingers and Custard."

He let out a barking laugh, good ole Sexy, always giving him exactly what he needs. The first promise this body made on a magical night in Leadsworth, how could he possibly let that go before it was done? So he gripped his console and staggered to his feet. Saving the Ponds, all of them, that would be an okay ending. He'd know that they're safe, the TARDIS would take them home before she herself died and he would go onto wherever it is Time Lords went to. His ship hummed warmly beneath him in comfort and, dare he say, hope? He shook his head lightly as he flew her for the last time.

There was no hope for him now. There were no regenerations le- er he was unable to regenerate and his last great act of defiance would be to save his loved ones. After all, what were the chances that his crazy, homicidal River would sacrifice any of her regenerations for him? He grinned, about the same that he would actually marry her. Like that would ever happen.

**IV.**

Pyramids were cool, yeah, real cool. Nice place to die, a pyramid, the constant reminder that there are things so much bigger and grander than you could ever hope to be. Oh alright yes he was stalling. Probably because he's nervous though he feels justified in this case. His skin is crawling as time is literally dying around him, he's about to marry River Song and, on top of that, he's encouraging her to kill him.

_Still_, he thinks as he leans in to kiss River, _there are worse ways to go_. Because he doesn't know if this crazy scheme of his will even work. He knows that the Teselecta is sturdy but Past River's spacesuit has been rigged with all sorts of weaponry made just for the purpose of killing a Time Lord dead. This elaborate scheme of his might be all for naught. But he had to do it anyway, had to convince River somehow that destroying time was not the answer, even if it does end up finishing him off.

He closes his eyes as time reasserts itself and he's back at Lake Silencio. The Teselecta shakes something awful as the first shot hit it. The Doctor forces himself to sit down as he watches through the robot's eyes the familiar golden glow begin to appear on his doppelganger's hands. He'd given the crew enough data to replicate the process, to the required extent anyway, but it was still so disconcerting to watch. He rubbed at his arms trying to dispel the goose bumps. This old, old body of his would never be encased in that icy hot glow; it would never explode in an inferno of light and remake him. Most days he could just ignore it but seeing it right in front of him dredged up a very human feeling of mortality that the Doctor did not appreciate at all.

He was almost relieved when River fired the final shot and down the Teselecta went as the regenerative glow was snuffed out. He let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding and relaxed a little in the chair as ginger hair assaulted the screen. Amelia Pond, crying over him again, it seems he was never doing right by her. Stealing her childhood, stealing her baby, stealing her peace. It made him think to the time when it would be real, when on some faraway planet he was struck down... would Amy cry over him then? Would Rory stand there solemnly and River mask her heartbreak? Would they even still be with him at the end? He closed his eyes, no, they had to be. His family, he wouldn't want anyone else there with him when the lights went out for good.

What a strange thing being present at his own funeral. He'd thought he'd be able to handle this, it was his best option of survival, but it was affecting him more than he'd anticipated. Probably because this was in his not so far future, he had already lived some two hundred years in this body. How many more did he have left? He swallowed sharply and prepared to evacuate with the rest of crew as the Teselecta was pushed out into the lake and set aflame.

_Everything's got to end sometime or else nothing would ever get started, _he reminds himself as he leaves the robot and enters a quiet, unknown life. But still, the images of the glow that would never again come and his beloved Ponds mourning him made him think that he was long overdue for the quiet life. He had a little human family now, one he loved and wanted to share the last of his days with. If only for their sake, he had to stop being so reckless with his final life. He straightened his bowtie to try and convince himself that they were his only motivation for this whole charade.

**V.**

"When one's in love with an ageless god who insists on the face of a twelve year old, one does one's best to hide the damage." The words stung and he looked away for an instant. He wasn't perfect, he was the first in line to dispute that claim but he did his best to keep his family safe. He knows he got a little too worked up earlier about that final chapter in River's book and even now the thought of saying goodbye to his precious-

He reached over and delicately held his wife's wrist. Oh look at what he'd done, what he'd _made_ her do. He gently asks her if it hurts, knowing full well that she's in agony right now.

"Oh yes, the wrist is pretty bad too." He looked up with a hurt expression only for her to be pointedly looking the other way. Oh River, was she finally realizing what a fool she'd been to give all of her regenerations to save him? He blinked, now there's a thought. He tightened his grip on her wrist. River had given up so much for him, more than anyone should ever be allowed to. He didn't have much regenerative energy left, just barely enough to keep him alive, but she was his wife and he didn't want to see her in pain, especially not because of him.

Feeling deep, deep inside of himself he called a little of that energy up and used it to heal her wrist. He heard her gasp as the golden glow began to knit the bones back together and he heard her quietly hiss at him to stop which genuinely surprised him. Did she really think he would ignore her injury when it was within his power to stop it? He was a rubbish husband but not that rubbish.

"There we are," he whispered and brought his head down to kiss her wrist in order to hide how pale and drawn his face was. He'd-he'd underestimated how much that would take out of him. It took all of his control just to keep himself conscious. He had less energy left than he'd previously thought; he absolutely could not do that again or it would certainly kill him. But for River, well, he'd do just about anything for her. He looked up to see her fuming quietly as she stretched out her wrist.

"Oh well, let's see then." And then she slapped him, and not too lightly either as he had to grip the stair beneath to stop himself from falling over. Now he was really confused, first she was angry for pressuring her into breaking her wrist and now she was furious for healing her? But then he looked into her eyes and he understood. Her eyes weren't filled with anger but fear and he realized that she _knew_. She knew that this was his last body, he didn't know how, but somehow she'd puzzled out that there would be no regeneration energy to save him from death. She looked at him deeply, probably taking note of his exhaustion and continued.

"That was stupid! A waste of regeneration energy, nothing is gained by you being a sentimental idiot!" She shouted but even though her voice was angry all he could see in her eyes was worry. She was worried about him; she knew how vital that energy was to him now and she was upset he would use it on her. He felt his own frustration rise, he would have given it to her even if it was the last drop he had. That's what marriage was about, right? Caring about another person more than yourself?

"River!" He said throwing out his hands. Why can't she see that he honestly loved her? Oh he wished that woman wasn't so determined to save him at her own expense, but if she hadn't then perhaps they'd have never gotten started. "River!" But she was already up and leaving.

"Oh you embarrass me!" and just like that she was out the door with Pond quick after her. He looked down at the device in his hands which would locate Rory. How did she know? Did future him tell her? No, right now they were mostly linear and, besides, there was no reason for him to tell her such grim news. But again, she was an intelligent woman. Maybe she'd picked up over the last few adventures how long it took for him to heal, as someone who'd had and lost that energy herself; he supposes it isn't all that strange for her to understand.

He slammed his boots on the ground in frustration. He just wanted her safe was all, safe, that is, until the Library. He rubbed at his eyes. He really was getting too old for this. Somewhere along the way, the thought of his last body stopped filling him with dread and slowly turned into weariness. It was just getting too exhausting pretending that he was as young as he appeared. He almost wished that his bones still creaked and his body was withered to justify the slow constant ache in his hearts. He looked up as the device sounded announcing that it had pinpointed Rory's location.

Yes well there was no time for sulking, he had to save Rory. He bounced to his feet because, at this stage in his life, they were the only ones he kept up the appearance for. Oh he had his pouting moments but as long as he had a Pond or three around, the Doctor would always be able to push the dark thoughts out of his head and get back into the game.

**VI.**

"Right, I'm allowing you access to memories on Time Lord Regeneration." He said, well more like thought, to his Cyber-counterpart as he allowed the memories of ten regenerations to flow through. The Doctor did his very best not to appear, much less feel, uncomfortable. It had been so very long since there had been an actual threat inside his own mind and it was much more difficult to fool himself than it was most people. The Cyberiad or Mr. Clever or whatever he was calling himself now, had a very strong grip on his mind, a much firmer grasp than the Doctor himself had and that was worrisome. Bad things would happen if the knowledge in his head fell into the wrong hands.

He had to stop the Cyberiad from taking anything else in his mind or else the planet and possibly the whole universe would fall to the Cybermen. Then he'd never figure out who Clara was… It all depended on one thing, convincing the Cyberiad of his regenerative capacities. It was a Cyber-thing, a machine, what could it possibly know about regeneration? Sure it was in his body but it couldn't possibly differentiate the normal feeling of bubbling potential to the emptiness that was now at his core. If it could, well then the universe was pretty much guaranteed for an upgrade.

"Fantastic!" The Cyberiad exclaimed, trying to dig deeper into the memories. The Doctor was very forthcoming with certain thoughts; he let the machine get a good long look at the pain and agony of the burn and how it could completely re-write him. He was careful though to keep his extra two regenerations hidden. The Cyberiad would be able to put two and two together if it realized that he'd undergone all twelve changes. It was easy to push the Meta-crisis Doctor out of his mind, he'd never been mentally connected to that one and he was practically another man entirely. Maybe later, when his brain wasn't under attack, the Doctor will take a moment to wonder how that half-human Doctor was doing in Pete's World. And the other one… well the less said about him the better eh?

Here it was, the moment of truth. This, perhaps more than any other battle would decide the fate of universe. He only hoped his poker face would hold up. He 'stared' right into the Cyberiad, his memories of death and rebirth swirling around them.

"I could regenerate right now. A big blast of regeneration energy, burn out any little Cyberwidgets in my brain, along with everything you're connected to. Don't want to. Use this me up, who knows what we'll get next?" He said sternly, trying to convince the Cyberiad, _convince himself_, that if he wanted to he could be engulfed in that golden glow right this minute. There could be no room for doubt; he had to believe it with every fiber of his being and convince this invader that he had an ace up his sleeve when all he had were jokers. He mentally gave a light little smirk. He was a Time Lord, regenerating every so often is what he did. Sure he didn't want to, this young body was so very convenient, but he would if it would save the universe.

"But I can."

He felt the Cyberiad's irritation increase as it slowly stopped it's spread into his mind. "Stalemate, then." The Doctor could not believe he was able to cover his sigh of relief. The Cyberiad had accepted his bluff. Now they were at least on equal footing and the Doctor could think of some way to get this foreign other out of his head and stop the Cybermen from conquering the known galaxies. He's just done a risky, but life-saving, move not unlike the chess game that was about to commence. The Doctor pushed away the thoughts pertaining to his regenerative abilities because, or so he told himself, his whole plan would be ruined should the Cyberiad discover his treachery. Besides, he was tired of going over it again and again and again. He was going to die eventually; dwelling on it wouldn't change anything. One day soon he'd be with his family again, both human and Gallifreyan but until then he would try to be the best Doctor he could be. He moved his knight forward and the game began.

**VII.**

The Doctor hummed a little Christmas tune quietly to himself as he slowly made his way up the stairs of his home on Trenzalore. One last confrontation with the Daleks, he quirked a smile at that, it wouldn't be a proper death without them. Oh he'd had some times with them, he thought back to his first time on Skaro with Susan, Barbara and Chatterton… He shook his head and concentrated on the steps. His mind… wandered more these days, more so than it normally did, and he could feel in his now ancient bones that his time was almost up. He'd lived a long, long time in this his last incarnation, longer than he'd ever spent in one body and it was well past time he gave it up for good. He finally reached the top and took a moment to catch his breath. These next words he spoke to his oldest enemy would be his last, he couldn't help but feel a bit of relief at that. No more please, he was just so tired...

He was talking now, trying to put a lifetime's worth of bravado and heroism into his speech but he couldn't quite muster it. It broke his hearts a little, but there was nothing left he could give. "Well you knock yourself out boys; I've got nothing this time." He said with a defeated sigh and bitter wave of his hand. He couldn't even bring himself to fear his upcoming death; there just wasn't enough of him left to care. _I'm all used up,_ he thought sadly from his spot on the bench as he felt the people of Christmas die around him. No more Mad Man with a Box, Oncoming Storm or Doctor Who? He closed his eyes, it would almost be a kindness to go; he'd lived a long life and he was so very tired. Trenzalore would burn and turn into the shriveled husk he landed on with Clara and the Time Lords would stay locked in their own universe for all time. The mad fairytale was finally coming to a close as it was always destined to but it really had been a good one, hadn't it? The very best.

He looked up suddenly as a familiar tingle ran up his spine, no it couldn't be. The glowing crack that he'd kept vigil over for so long now appeared in the skies above Christmas, bursting with golden regeneration energy. He breathed in that golden glow and suddenly _there he was again_. The Doctor who had slowly withered within that bitter old body had reemerged, better than ever. After all, a man could get stuck into one body and one life, but the Doctor, well the Doctor could always be counted on to change with the times.

He looked on with glee and awe as his aged fingers began to glow and he wanted to laugh. Dear Rassilon look at that, now there was a sight he never thought he'd see! Regeneration energy was curling around his thirteenth and final body ready to start the process anew. He wasn't dying at all, he was beginning again. The hollowness he'd felt for the entirety of this incarnation was once again filled to the brim with vitality and hope and life. It had been millennia since he'd had this much regeneration energy in him, he wasn't sure he could even control it. He slowly stood up as the feeling of newness began to overwhelm him.

He looked up at the sky as the Daleks spoke to him like he was defeated old man and, to be fair to the Daleks, a few moments ago he had been. But now, now he was the Doctor again and did it ever feel good. He shouted at them, rightly accused them of their doubt in his ability to be mad and clever and impossible. He let out a barking laugh as he threw down his cane, didn't need that old thing anymore, canes were _not_ cool. Everything had to end sometime; this old body of his would be gently lulled to sleep as the glow of life remade him for the thirteenth time. But maybe somethings were never supposed to end but to just keep going on again in a slightly different way.

Eleven's hour was over now sure, but _the Doctor's_ was only beginning.

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Ta-da! I think I started writing this the day after _Time of the Doctor_ because I was just so impressed at how much sense it made that 11 was the last of the original Doctors. They couldn't have known right from the start of Matt's tenure and yet I can go back to these referenced scenes and see it. So forgive my excitement but I just love it when things come together. The secondary regeneration thing I read about online and I was confused by _the Eleventh Hour_. It was my first thought when I read that Moffat intended him to be the last so I seriously give that man his props. Tried to stick mostly to scenes involving, mentioning regeneration (debated long and hard over _the Big Bang_ scene but in the end decided that the Doctor must have been thinking along those lines).

I hope you all enjoy, I've been working and reworking this story for 6 months and I quite like the ideas in it because that's the thing about _Doctor Who_ that I adore. It's all wibbly and strange but nothing you write is actually _wrong_. Who's to say that the TARDIS didn't lie in _Let's Kill Hitler_ over the disabling of regenerative abilities or that River was so upset in _Angels Take Manhattan_ because of the Doctor wasting precious energy? Anyway, that's just what I believe. Remember, I only posted this because I won't be able to update Thursday.

The episodes refered here were I. _The Eleventh Hour_, II. _The Big Bang_, III. _Let's Kill Hitler_, IV. _The Wedding of River Song_, V._ The Angels Take Manhattan_, VI. _Nightmare in Silver _and VII. _The Time of the Doctor_.


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